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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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"Oh, well, Carrie," he answered, "here I am. It’s too late now. Won’t you try and care for me a little?" He looked rather worsted in thought as he stood before her. She shook her head negatively. "Let me start all over again. Be my wife from today on." Carrie rose up as if to step away, he holding her hand. Now he slipped his arm about her and she struggled, but in vain. He held her quite close. Instantly there flamed up in his body the all- compelling desire. His affection took an ardent form. "Let me go," said Carrie, who was folded close to him. "Won’t you love me?" he said. "Won’t you be mine from now on?" Carrie had never been ill-disposed toward him. Only a moment before she had been listening with some complacency, remembering her old affection for him. He was so handsome, so daring! Now, however, this feeling had changed to one of opposition, which rose feebly. It mastered her for a moment, and then, held close as she was, began to wane. Something else in her spoke. This man, to whose bosom she was being pressed, was strong; he was passionate, he loved her, and she was alone. If she did not turn to him-accept of his love-where else might she go? Her resistance half dissolved in the flood of his strong feeling. She found him lifting her head and looking into her eyes. What magnetism there was she could never know. His many sins, however, were for the moment all forgotten. He pressed her closer and kissed her, and she felt that further opposition was useless. "Will you marry me?" she asked, forgetting how. "This very day," he said, with all delight. Now the hall-boy pounded on the door and he released his hold upon her regretfully. "You get ready now, will you," he said, "at once?" "Yes," she answered. "I’ll be back in three-quarters of an hour." Carrie, flushed and excited, moved away as he admitted the boy. Below stairs, he halted in the lobby to look for a barber shop. For the moment, he was in fine feather. His recent victory over Carrie seemed to atone for much he had endured during the last few days. Life seemed worth fighting for. This eastward flight from all things customary and attached seemed as if it might have happiness in store. The storm showed a rainbow at the end of which might be a pot of gold. He was about to cross to a little red-and-white striped bar which was fastened up beside a door when a voice greeted him familiarly. Instantly his heart sank. "Why, hello, George, old man!" said the voice. "What are you doing down here?" Hurstwood was already confronted, and recognised his friend Kenny, the stock-broker. "Just attending to a little private matter," he answered, his mind working like a key-board of a telephone station. This man evidently did not know-he had not read the papers. "Well, it seems strange to see you way up here," said Mr. Kenny genially. "Stopping here?" "Yes," said Hurstwood uneasily, thinking of his handwriting on the register. "Going to be in town long?" "No, only a day or so." "Is that so? Had your breakfast?" "Yes," said Hurstwood, lying blandly. "I’m just going for a shave." "Won’t you come have a drink?" "Not until afterwards," said the ex-manager. "I’ll see you later. Are you stopping here?" |
